by Helen Lacey
So he stared at the ceiling for two hours, in between shooing off the dog that clearly wanted to curl up between his feet.
Last night, despite his best intentions, the moment she’d walked into his arms, Wyatt had crumbled. Her skin, her lips and her beautiful hair—he had no answer for the burning desire that consumed him whenever she was near him. He couldn’t resist. No woman had ever had such an effect on him. There had been no words when they’d made love. Only touch and taste and an exploration of the senses. Each stroke more mind-blowing than the last.
Wyatt groaned and put the pillow over his face to muffle the sound. He swung his legs off the sofa and sat up. Sleep was out of the question. Television filled the next hour or so, and at dawn he heard Cecily’s cheerful voice echoing down the hallway.
Fiona emerged about ten minutes later, and by then he was in the kitchen making coffee. Dressed in pale-gray-and-black, sweats she looked weary and sleep-deprived. And so beautiful his breath caught in his throat.
“Coffee. Mmm...lovely,” she said and took the mug he offered.
Cecily was bouncing around within seconds. “Merry Christmas in July!” She hugged them both. “Oh, can we please open gifts first?”
Wyatt caught Fiona’s gaze. There would be no holding back his exuberant niece and they both knew it. “Sure,” Fiona said. “Lead the way.”
It took about three minutes for Cecily to devour all her gifts and leave a pile of discarded wrapping paper in her wake as she danced on happy feet, clinging to the new cell phone he’d given her. A good idea he’d be sure to thank Fiona for suggesting.
Sharing gifts with Fiona seemed ridiculously intimate, and he knew Cecily watched them interact with keen interest. His niece was hoping, he suspected, to see their relationship develop into something more, something permanent. Wyatt knew she wanted to be a part of a traditional family unit again. And Fiona was her birth mother—in Cecily’s young eyes it would be the perfect solution.
Would he consider it? When he knew it would mean a commitment and ultimately marriage? He couldn’t deny his attraction for Fiona. And they were compatible in many ways. Not only between the sheets. He liked her and enjoyed her company. But his resistance lingered. He’d been played before. How could he be sure this wouldn’t turn out the same?
“If it’s not detailed enough, I can return it.”
Wyatt shifted his attention to the moment. Fiona was watching him as he handled the thick book on car restoration, and he remembered how he’d mentioned he had plans to one day rebuild the ’67 Camaro his father had in the garage at Waradoon.
“It’s great,” he replied. “Thanks.”
She looked at the book and grimaced. “You’re difficult to buy for.”
“I told you he had everything,” Cecily chimed in as she took a second away from her phone. “Imagine trying to come up with something new every year...sheesh.”
“Do you have everything?” Fiona asked quietly once Cecily returned to pressing buttons.
Wyatt held her gaze. “Right now...I think I do.”
And suddenly Wyatt knew his orderly, practical life would be empty without Fiona Walsh in it.
* * *
The day had a surreal edge for Fiona. By midmorning she’d cooked breakfast, which they shared around the kitchen table, as they chatted through mouthfuls of fried ham and eggs. Afterward, Wyatt helped her wash the dishes. Before she had a chance to protest, Fiona found herself trapped between his chest and the kitchen counter and caught in a delicious lip-lock with him that was so passionate it made her heart surge. Of course, Cecily catching them in a clinch as she walked into the kitchen had Fiona pulling away so quickly she almost fell over. This made her daughter laugh, and Wyatt grab her with lightning-fast reflexes before she ended up in a twisted heap on the floor.
Her embarrassment aside, the time she spent with them both would become bottled memories she’d treasure forever. Cecily’s animated happiness was almost too sweet to bear. And Wyatt... She wished she knew what the future held. Especially after last night. She’d spouted a whole lot of reasons why they couldn’t get involved and then rushed into his arms again. Fiona cursed her lack of self-control. But still, he was such a wonderful lover—thoughtful and attentive, passionate and reverent. She’d discovered more about giving and receiving pleasure in the past week than she had in all her adult life.
But what was he feeling? She wanted to believe he genuinely cared for her and to believe it was more than a fling. His comments while they’d opened gifts that morning encouraged her to think he did. But without the actual words, how could she be sure? Assurance had never seemed more important. He liked her...she was savvy enough to figure that out. And they were good together in bed. So good. Too good. So good her hormones were running riot. But sex wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship between two people who hardly knew one another. And with Cecily clearly hoping for it to happen, Fiona knew her daughter would be painfully disappointed if they started something that faded as quickly as it had begun. Cecily had endured enough disappointments, and Fiona wasn’t about to add to the load.
By eleven she said goodbye and waved farewell to them from the front porch when they returned to the B and B to change clothes. There was a baby shower at Evie’s parents’ home that afternoon, and since they’d all been invited, they’d agreed to go together. Like a real family.
Exactly the family I’ve longed for.
But she needed reality. She also refused to let her imagination run away with wild ideas. After she showered and changed into a knee-length pale blue dress cut on the bias, Fiona waited for about ten minutes before they returned to pick her up.
Wyatt looked so good in chinos and a white shirt it stole her breath.
“Ready?” he asked as she opened the door.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I just have this to take.” She picked up a bag near the door. “Makings for a cheese-and-fruit platter and a gift for Evie and Scott’s baby,” she explained.
She didn’t pull back when he grabbed the bag in one hand and took her hand with the other. Once Fiona had closed the door, he walked her to the car. Cecily was grinning from ear to ear in the backseat. Oh, no...don’t start thinking this is something real. She wanted to say the words out loud. To herself. To her daughter. Knowing how it must look with their hands linked, Fiona pulled away as they reached the car and quickly ducked into the front seat. He placed the bag in the back and they headed off.
The trip to the Prestons’ home took only a few minutes, and by the time they arrived, there were several cars parked outside. Cecily jumped out quickly before Fiona had a chance to move and took off to find Lily. Wyatt reached across and grasped her arm.
“Fiona?”
“Everyone’s inside,” she breathed. “Let’s go—”
“I think we should talk.”
She knew what was coming, didn’t she? The talk. The let’s-be-friends speech. She’d heard it before. Maybe she’d imagined his interest as being more than sexual? Whatever it was, she was going down fast. And she had to save herself.
“You want out?” she blurted and moved her arm.
“What?”
“From me...from whatever this is.”
He frowned. “Why would I want that?”
Fiona shrugged. “Because it’s less complicated.”
“If I didn’t want complicated,” he said and grabbed her hand, “I wouldn’t have come here to find you in the first place. I would have told Cecily to wait until she was eighteen and search for you then. But I did come here and we did meet...and we did connect.”
Connect? God, she should be jumping out of her skin that he wasn’t backing out. Instead, her heart was thumping so hard she wondered if she would hyperventilate. She wanted more than a connection. She wanted I love you. He stroked her hand with his thumb and watched her wit
h blistering intensity, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She wanted the lot. She wanted him in every way possible.
“But you’re leaving soon.”
“Yes,” he replied and kept stroking her skin. “I have to get back. The company, my family. It’s all a long way from here.”
Fiona nodded because she wasn’t sure she could do anything else.
“So, come to Waradoon?”
“But I—”
“And soon. Let’s see if this connection works somewhere else.”
God, she was tempted. “Cecily would—”
“Think it’s a great idea,” he said, cutting her off without batting an eye.
Of course she would. Cecily wanted a family. With parents and siblings one day. She hadn’t dared admit to her daughter that it was her dream, too. But what about Wyatt’s dreams? His fiancée had cheated on him—could she expect that he’d want to get seriously involved with anyone?
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
He didn’t look happy with her response, but after a second, he shrugged. “Sure. We should go inside, don’t you think?”
Fiona agreed and quickly got out of the car. Wyatt retrieved the bags from the backseat and she waited for him by the bottom step. Once inside, she took the bags from him and headed for the kitchen and left Wyatt to his own devices, presumably to hang out with the rest of the men and talk about the stuff men seemed to be able to talk about even if they weren’t well acquainted.
Callie was in the kitchen cutting thick slices of watermelon, and Evie was decorating a fluffy meringue. Both women eyed Fiona as she walked into the room, and Callie raised her brows. Fiona knew that look—knew her friend had something on her mind.
“What?”
Callie wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Cecily just made an appearance. Where’s the gorgeous uncle?”
Fiona dumped the bags on the counter. “Outside. And I’d rather not—”
“She’s onto you.”
“Huh?”
Callie’s mouth turned up at the edges. “Cecily. She and Lily have become firm friends. She told Lily that you and Wyatt were, and I quote, ‘so doing it.’”
Fiona’s cheeks burned. “Lily said that?”
“Yes. Our girls have been texting in the small hours. They’ve got quite the hotline going.” Callie stopped her cutting.
Evie spoke. “So, is it true?”
Fiona opened her mouth in protest. But this was Callie and Evie. Her best friends. “We’re...well...yes.”
“Good for you,” Evie said and smiled.
Callie didn’t look so pleased. “I thought you didn’t want to complicate things?”
“I don’t. Anyway, it won’t last,” she said and despised how foolishly hopeless she sounded.
Callie looked at her. “You’re sure of that?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Fiona admitted. “What I’m feeling. What Wyatt’s feeling. If he’s feeling anything at all. And with Cecily stuck in the middle, it’s getting harder every day. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here.”
Callie looked serious suddenly. “Well, considering what happened with her parents, I think you need to figure it out. You can tell me to mind my own business, but I think the last thing that girl needs is more confusion in her life.”
Fiona frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, despite her obvious exuberance for the two of you to be together, Cecily isn’t entirely convinced any relationship can survive since she found out about her father’s affair.”
Fiona stilled, poleaxed by Callie’s words. “Her father’s what?”
“Affair,” Callie said again and looked at her oddly. “She told Lily. I was sure she would have said something to you.”
“No. Only that they were having some problems.” The words left her mouth with a kind of static disbelief. “Are you sure that’s what she said?”
Callie nodded. “He’d had an affair. Apparently they’d gone away together on a trip to work on their marriage. Since they were killed the day before they were due to arrive home, I guess no one will ever know whether they were able to work things out.”
An affair?
Fiona couldn’t believe it. Oh, not that Jim Todd had been unfaithful. But that Wyatt hadn’t told her. She’d asked him about his sister’s marriage, and he’d shrugged off her questions and shut her out. Deliberately. And she wouldn’t stand for it. Not with Cecily stuck in the middle.
Fiona knew she had to start thinking with her head and not her heart.
Or I might lose everything.
And that, she thought with a resolute breath, was not an option.
Chapter Ten
Wyatt sensed the distinct change in Fiona’s mood the moment she walked outside. She glared at him with a kind of unholy rage as she walked across to where Cecily sat by the pool. He wished he knew her better. He hung out with Noah and Cameron for a while and saw his chance to speak with her when she made her way back into the house. He followed her through the kitchen and into the front living room. She clearly knew he was behind her because her back was stiff with tension.
“Fiona, wait up.”
She stalled about ten feet in front of him and turned. “What?”
He took note of her bright blue-gray eyes and lips pressed tight. “Exactly—what?”
She opened her mouth and then quickly clamped it shut.
“What’s wrong?” he insisted.
“Now isn’t the time to get into it.”
“Seems like the perfect time.”
“In someone else’s home?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“So, all this sudden anger is aimed at me?”
She rocked back on her heels. “At myself,” she said and flicked her hair in that way he could not ignore. “For being so gullible.”
“Gullible?” Wyatt stepped closer and shut the sliding door. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve become so wrapped up in wanting you I’ve forgotten why you’re here. I’ve forgotten what I’m doing. I’ve also forgotten that I promised this would only be about Cecily.”
Wyatt pushed past his frustration and tried to not sound impatient. “That’s something of an old song, don’t you think? We can’t undo what’s done.”
Her blue-gray eyes flashed lightning. “Well, you would say that, considering you’ve been moving me around like a pawn on a chessboard.”
He stared at her. “What?”
“Lying by omission is still lying,” she said hotly, as if she couldn’t get the words out quickly enough.
Annoyance ignited behind his ribs. He had no idea what she meant. “I haven’t lied to you.”
Both her brows shot up. “Really? So, if letting me think your sister’s marriage was rock-solid, when we both know it wasn’t, isn’t lying, what is?”
Wyatt swayed fractionally. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly,” she shot back. “Your sister and her husband were having a few problems, you said. Nothing serious. Since when is infidelity nothing?”
Infidelity? So, she knew. He wondered how much. “Since it’s a private family issue and none of your business.”
Wyatt knew it sounded harsh and dismissive. And he knew she’d be hurt by his words. But he wasn’t about to lay any Harper skeletons out for open discussion. The past was the past, and that was exactly where it would remain. Even if it meant shutting her out.
She took a heavy breath. “And that puts me in my place? Well, I’m pleased we’ve cleared that up. I’d hate to harbor the illusion that I was important enough to be privy to something about your family. Or you.”
Her eyes flashed at him. He could have said something t
o assure her she was important. Or that she was quickly becoming the most important thing to him. Instead he stuck by his determination to keep the whole ugly mess from hurting any more people than it already had.
“What happened in my family has no bearing on your relationship with Cecily.”
It sounded exclusive and they both knew it. “What about my relationship with you?” she asked, suddenly all eyes, all emotion.
Wyatt wasn’t sure where their relationship was heading. It was too new. Too raw. And arguing about it wouldn’t help. “It’s nothing—”
“Nothing?” Her voice rose as she cut him off.
“If you’d let me finish—”
“Oh, we’re finished all right,” she said and glared at him. “We are absolutely finished. Over. Done. Kaput.”
“You’re overreacting,” he replied, harsher than he liked.
“What does it matter? We’ve already established that I’m nothing to you.”
Wyatt expelled a frustrated breath. “That’s not what I said.”
“I know exactly what you—”
“Would you stop fighting? Just stop!”
They both stilled. Cecily had emerged from the hall and stood in the doorway, her eyes bright and her cheeks red. When they said her name simultaneously, she shook her head with a kind of frantic denial.
“Just stop fighting...please,” she implored and wrapped her thin arms around herself.
Guilt hit Wyatt in the center of his chest. He remembered those last few months before Karen and Jim were killed. It had been a tough time, and Cecily had been in the middle of it, as much as he knew his sister had done her best to shield her from seeing and hearing too much. “We were just—”
“Fighting,” she wailed. “Arguing.”
Fiona stepped toward her. “I’m sorry if you thought we were—”
“I heard you. I know what fighting sounds like.”
